Ragnarok
by Sharingan no saab
Summary: Harry's third year ends just a little differently. Leading him towards forces both old and new, and setting him on a new path to self discovery and the saving of the world as we know it. You know, ordinary teenager stuff.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Harry was feeling slightly nervous. This wasn't strange, as most students would be nervous when called to the headmaster's office, but Harry doubted a student had ever been called up to Dumbledore's office for this particular reason. He certainly didn't know of any other case where a student had used a time-turner to save their wrongfully accused godfather from having his soul sucked out.

Harry guessed Dumbledore had called him up on the last day of school to get a detailed account. The whole thing had been the headmaster's idea to begin with, so Harry shouldn't have felt as nervous as he did. The reason he was though, was because of something that happened during his trip in time. Something he hadn't shared with anyone yet. Not even with Hermione, who had gone back in time with him. Something had happened to him that night, and he wasn't sure he felt comfortable knowing what it was.

Harry was so distracted, he hadn't even realised he had arrived at his destination until he heard Dumbledore's aged voice telling him to come in through the closed door of his office. Harry entered and gave a look around. The office looked the same as he remembered from his second year at Hogwarts. Shelves and cabinets all around filled with books and strange magical instruments that softly whizzed and puffed, Fawkes the phoenix on his perch, the softly snoring portraits of all the previous headmasters and headmistresses on the walls and the sorting hat on a shelf behind Dumbledore's desk. The only new addition seemed to be the display case showing the gleaming sword of Godric Gryffindor.

Harry greeted Fawkes, who thrilled warmly in reply, and stroked his magnificent feathers until Dumbledore asked Harry to take a seat. Harry gave a small start and started apologising before Dumbledore interrupted him with twinkling eyes and a knowing smile. "It's hardly the first time Fawkes draws such attention to himself." With a mischievous glance to the phoenix he added, "In truth I rather believe he enjoys being the centre of attention." To the amusement of both wizards, Fawkes gave a huff and disappeared in a ball of flames.

"Now then Harry, I'm sure you are wondering why you are here." Harry took a deep breath.  
"To be honest sir, I figured you wanted to know exactly what happened a few days back. Although I figured Hermione ought to be here for that as well." Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "I'm sure it would be a good story my boy, but it is not why I called you up here. Rather, I have some business to discuss with you first. As Headmaster of this school and as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, it falls to me to inform you of your inheritance." Dumbledore paused to let that sentence sink in a bit, but Harry just looked confused. "My inheritance, sir? Do you mean the money my parents left me?" Dumbledore chuckled again.

"There's a little more to it than that, my boy. Did you know that the Potters are one of what wizarding Britain calls the 'ancient and noble' houses?" at Harry's confused look, Dumbledore elaborated. "The ancient and noble houses are old wizarding families that played a part in the forming of the Wizengamot and the ministry of magic. These families all have a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot, the legislative body of the ministry and its highest legal court." Harry gave a small nod, to show he followed it all so far. "So my family has one of these seats then?" Dumbledore nodded merrily. "Indeed my boy, although you aren't obligated to claim it if you don't wish to do so, and won't be able to do so anyway until you come of age, as would happen for all of your inheritance normally."  
"Normally, sir?" Harry asked, getting confused again. "Normally this would be the case." Dumbledore agreed. "As the last direct heir to an ancient and noble family, there are however, a few exceptions. In the case of underage heirs with no direct adult magical relatives, such as yourself, the heir can claim their family's full estate, vaults and possessions if they have finished at least three years of formal magical education."

Dumbledore paused again. Letting Harry come to grips with the news. "So my family owned more than just my vault?" Harry exclaimed in surprise. "And how would I claim my inheritance?" Dumbledore looked at Harry with twinkling eyes. "I'm not aware of the full extent of the Potter estate, but I do know that your current vault at Gringotts was specifically set aside to pay for your schooling, should something happen to your parents. The main family vault should be untouched and waiting to be claimed, alongside any properties your family may still have." At this Dumbledore's gaze turned thoughtful. "I do know your family used to have a rather sizable manor that got burned down in the last war and that your parent's house in Godric's Hollow has been turned into a national monument, although you may still own the ground the building once stood on." Seeing the stunned look on Harry's face, Dumbledore continued. "To claim your inheritance one would simply need to fill out a few legal forms to formally acknowledge you as an emancipated minor, and then visit with your account manager at Gringotts to claim the estate. I have the legal forms here if you would like to handle everything now? I'd escort you to Gringotts as well, but the goblins insist the claiming of inheritance should strictly be between the heir and the account manager."

As Harry started reading over some of the forms Dumbledore continued. "I must also say that as an emancipated minor, you will be exempt from the Reasonable restriction on underage Sorcery." Harry looked up excitedly. "Does this mean -"  
"Yes, Harry, it means you may use magic outside of Hogwarts school." Dumbledore looked at Harry over his half-moon glasses as his gaze took on a more serious note. "I must impress upon you however that this is a privilege that can be taken away if any laws are broken and that the Statute of Secrecy is still to be upheld in all except life threatening cases. No magic is allowed where anyone who is not aware of our world may notice." At Harry's properly chastised look, Dumbledore turned cheerful once more as he offered to help Harry fill out the legal forms.

A short while later, Harry finished the last signature. The forms briefly flashed white, before copying themselves into one small pile for Harry, as Dumbledore explained, and one small pile that Dumbledore would file with the ministry. "Now then, I believe congratulations are in order Harry. Or rather, Head Potter, if you wish to be formal about it." Dumbledore added with twinkling eyes. His genial smile only seemed to grow at Harry's embarrassed insistence that 'just Harry' was fine.

"Now then Harry, with business out of the way, I do admit, I'm rather curious just how events happened the night Sirius escaped." So Harry explained all that happened. Starting with how Hermione and he had freed Buckbeak, before hiding in the forest. How Hermione had stopped him from going after Pettigrew. How they had barely escaped from Lupin's werewolf form with a little help from Buckbeak. How he had seen the dementors attacking Sirius and the others, until he realised his past self, had seen his future self cast the patronus that chased the Dementors away. How he and Hermione had flown Buckbeak to the tower where Sirius had been imprisoned and then raced back to the hospital wing.

"You are truly an exceptional young man Harry, your parents would most certainly be proud. To have cast such a strong patronus is most impressive indeed. Especially for a wizard your age" And Dumbledore indeed looked impressed. "I feel however that something is weighing on your mind…" The unspoken question of what this might be wasn't lost on Harry. Not for the first time, Harry had the idea that Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes saw right through him. He gathered his thoughts for a minute before he spoke again. "Professor… Do you remember last year, when you explained that Voldemort gave some of his powers to me after he tried to kill me?" At Dumbledore's agreeable nod he continued. "Well, before Hermione and I used the time turner, when the dementors were attacking us. One of them... gave me the kiss."

Harry stopped there for a second and gasped. A terrible pressure had filled the room after Harry's admission, and Harry understood fully for the first time why people said Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared. The old wizard looked absolutely furious as his visage radiated a palpable aura of power. As quickly as the pressure had come, it disappeared as Dumbledore visibly calmed himself. Barely a second had passed. "I apologise for my outburst." Dumbledore said, a bit tersely. "I never did agree with letting those creatures loose on the grounds. To hear they would do such a thing to one of my students is…upsetting." Harry couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that as he thought that may have won the understatement of the century. Dumbledore chuckled at Harry's slightly incredulous look. "Again, I apologise. Do go on, my boy."

"Well at first it felt awful, the worst I can remember ever feeling." Harry paused a second, but when no new outburst seemed imminent, he went on. "Then, right before I thought I was lost, I felt weird. Like I was loose from my body, getting sucked towards an endless swirling… I can truly only describe it as a void. Even though that's not exactly right either… it was...Dark" Harry shuddered as he remembered that utterly empty feeling before soldiering on. "The weird thing is…there was something else there too. Something that was stuck to my... soul I guess? But it got loose too." At this. Dumbledore, if possible, straightened even further in his chair. His eyes devoid of their usual twinkle as he looked at Harry with a serious gaze. "That's when the patronus came and knocked the dementor away." Harry forced himself to keep looking the headmaster in the eyes as he told Dumbledore how the essence of the other thing had been flung into the void, while he rushed back to his body, keeping consciousness just long enough to see himself across the lake.

"And you think this other thing, was the piece of Voldemort's power inside of you?" Dumbledore asked softly. At Harry's nod, Dumbledore seemed to consider what to say before gathering himself. "You know Harry, ever since you brought Tom's diary to my attention last year, and I formed the theory that Voldemort put some of himself into you all those years ago, I have been researching what kind of magic is capable of such feats." At seeing Harry's now questioning gaze he added "I did not find much yet, but what I did find is of such a dark nature, that I will not utter it here. I did however, find a spell to discover when such pieces of magic are present. I would like to use this spell to see if you are truly free of that piece of Voldemort." Harry agreed at once. "Whenever you're ready sir." At this Dumbledore drew his wand. Harry didn't speak as Dumbledore waved it in intricate patterns, muttering under his breath in a language Harry didn't recognise. There wasn't a flash of light, or any other outward sign of magic, but that didn't seem to matter to the headmaster as Dumbledore sagged in his chair, looking thoughtful and for all intents and purposes completely lost to the world.

"Sir?" Harry nervously asked after a minute. Dumbledore looked up in surprise, before giving Harry a genial smile. "Sorry my boy, I was lost in my thoughts. Something I find happens more and more as I grow older. In any case, I'm pleased to say that if ever a piece of Voldemort was inside of you, it is gone now." An indescribable flood of relief coursed through Harry at those words. He felt as if an immense weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Still." Dumbledore continued, his piercing blue eyes holding a steady gaze on Harry's. "I would be remiss if I didn't say that soul magic is mysterious at the best of times. Soul magic is a poorly understood discipline, even after thousands of years of study by the most brilliant minds in history. But all who study it agree on one thing: It is dangerous to meddle with the soul, and more often than not the results are unpredictable and worrisome. Therefore, I must ask you to let me know if anything strange or unusual happens that you think might be related to the events with the dementor. Anything at all, no matter how minor, no matter if the effects seem positive or negative. I need you to promise me that Harry." The sheer weight behind the headmasters gaze made Harry agree at once and the headmaster relaxed again. "Now, I feel I have taken up enough of your time, my boy. I'm sure you wouldn't wish to miss the end of year feast." Harry, recognising the dismissal for what it was, got up to leave before stopping at the door. "Thank you for confirming I'm free of Voldemort's magic in me, sir. You have no idea how relieved I am." Dumbledore smiled at him. "I can imagine my boy."

As Harry shut the door behind him, Dumbledore's genial grandfatherly look faded into the wizened general that had steered wizarding Britain through the last two wars. As he turned to his thoughts once more, a grim satisfied smile crept onto his face. Glad and so immensely relieved that he could abandon the only, horrid, plan to rid the world of Voldemort he had been able to conceive. After all his regrets and mistakes, after all the guilt he felt from his long life, he could do this one last thing right at least. Harry could live after all, he would make sure of it. He owed the boy that much at least. "I can imagine indeed." He softly muttered to himself, as the old wizard started planning anew.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry was currently walking through Diagon Alley. He'd spent the train ride from Hogwarts to London discussing his emancipation with Ron and Hermione. Ron, Harry couldn't help but feel, came across as a bit jealous, though in his defence, he had the good grace to look properly embarrassed after Harry pointed out this only happened because he had virtually no living family left. Hermione, as per usual, had been a fountain of knowledge. Through her, Harry learned that there were a multitude of old wizarding families either of pureblood or, more commonly these days, mixed heritage. Only a dozen of these were one of the 'Ancient and Noble houses' however. Families like the Weasleys were considered old, pureblood families, but as they weren't part of the leading families in the Wizarding council, which eventually became the Wizengamot, they were not given a hereditary seat like the Potters or the Blacks. The remaining thirty-eight members were comprised of the minister for Magic and a mixture of democratically chosen members. The Chief Warlock led the Wizengamot and also acted as a tie-breaker.

Harry found it interesting how the Wizengamot worked. It was in essence the old families, those who had lived in and ruled wizarding Britain for centuries, now sharing power with democratically chosen individuals. Some of 'lesser' old families and some even muggleborn. He imagined it to be a rather delicate balance, but it made a strange sort of sense. Harry thought it was true that it was, by muggle standards at least, outdated to have roughly a quarter of what was essentially wizarding parliament be completely hereditary positions. No matter if one was qualified or not. But the wizarding world was separate from the muggle one for a reason. It had its own ways, its own culture, and muggleborn simply weren't raised in that world. Harry considered himself a prime example. Even after three years of living in the wizarding world, he was still learning and discovering how the wizarding world was different from the muggle one. The 'old' inhabitants would not want their ways to be eradicated and the muggleborn would not want to leave their own customs and culture behind completely. Thus this strange sharing of power

Harry was taken out of his introspection briefly as he spotted the great, white, marble structure that was Gringotts, the goblin run Wizarding bank. Another thing he felt he should learn. How, with all the goblin wars and rebellions in the past, had the goblins ended up guarding most of the wizarding world's money? He knew some treaties existed of course, but if he was to be a future leader of this world, he really felt he should take some effort to know at least the basics of these things. Shaking his head, Harry dismissed those thoughts for now. He knew enough of the goblins to know he should not go into a meeting with one absent minded.

Entering the bank, Harry looked and went to the teller with one of the shorter queues, glad the bank didn't seem overly busy at the moment. Finally it was his turn as he politely told the permanently irritated looking goblin he had made an appointment with the Potter account manager by owl. The teller, still looking annoyed, called another goblin over in Gobbledygook, the guttural goblin language, who promptly escorted him towards the manager's office through richly decorated marble hallways. The goblin escort stopped at one of the many doors before knocking. Receiving an answer in Gobbledygook, the escort gestured for Harry to enter.

Opening the door, Harry found himself in a decent sized office with tasteful dark wooden colours, and a formal, older looking goblin behind a large mahogany desk. The goblin in question gestured for him to take a seat opposite him and introduced himself in slightly accented English. "Greetings. My name is Nagluk, I am the Potter account manager. I assume you are the new Head of house Potter, here to claim your inheritance as your letter stated." Harry gave the goblin a friendly smile, the being was managing his finances after all, best to keep on friendly terms. "Greetings. You assume correctly sir." Nagluk's smile seemed positively feral to Harry as the goblin opened a large book. "Then let us begin with an overview of the current Potter estate."

Harry felt surprised and couldn't help but ask. "Am I not supposed to show some kind of proof that I am who I say I am?" Harry felt even more surprised. He'd never heard a goblin laugh before. Harry had always imagined it sounding feral and somewhat guttural, like the goblin language itself, but it sounded surprisingly human. Nagluk looked amused as he showed a typical feral goblin smile. The kind that had genuinely scared him before he'd been exposed to far greater threats over the years. "Head Potter, had you been anyone but whom you claim to be, you never would have made it to my office." Nagluk said ominously. "Gringotts takes its security _very_ seriously." Okay, so maybe goblins as a whole were still scary after all. The rest of the meeting happened normally, or at least what Harry thought to be normal for such meetings. Harry had expected that his family had money. His trust vault alone had more money than the Weasley vault, as he had seen last year. Just how rich he turned out to be was staggering though.

Harry had grown up with nothing save his cousin's castoffs and a cupboard for a bedroom. To learn he had more money than the Dursleys were likely to ever make in their life was both hard for him to grasp and also strangely satisfying. Nagluk explained how the Potters had always been well off, but Harry's great-grandfather had truly turned it into a fortune. Apparently the man had been a potion genius and the Potter family was still earning the majority of their money of the patents of several of his inventions. Nagluk had seemed amused at Harry's reaction to all this wealth and made him aware that, although Harry may be rich and would likely not have to work a day in his life, he wasn't suddenly the richest man in Britain. It might be a difficult task, the goblin had explained, but it wouldn't be the first time a young man had blown through their inheritance in a few years. The goblin had imprinted on Harry that he could easily afford the lifestyle that came with being a member of the high society of the wizarding world, but not to go crazy with spending. Having seen his yearly income on paper, Harry couldn't imagine ever spending enough of it to lose money, never even mind burning through his vaults, but agreed with the goblin he'd not start spending money just because he could. He was realistic enough to realise that just because it seemed impossible to spend _that_ much to a thirteen year old used to being poor, that didn't mean it _was_ impossible. This seemed to placate Nagluk enough to move on.

While the Potter family apparently owned some stocks and shares in a number of businesses, Harry was happy to let Nagluk handle those. Harry wasn't exactly knowledgeable or experienced where the stock market was involved, and he figured it was part of Nagluk's job to handle that anyway. As far as Harry could tell he'd done a decent enough job so far at least. There was only one property still in the family name. Nagluk explained that the ministry had been insistent Harry's parents' former home was made a national monument, and so Harry technically didn't own it anymore. Nagluk smiled as he explained he personally negotiated the terms. He'd managed to get a large sum of money out of it, and special privileges for Harry. There was a statue in front of the house now, but everything else was to be left exactly as it was, with Harry the only one allowed to take anything from the property if he so wished,

This only left the lot where Potter Manor had once stood. The property was still Harry's simply because the family had long standing instructions at Gringotts to never sell it. That, and the place was unplottable. Meaning no one knew the exact location. It was somewhere in Britain, but that was all Nagluk knew. When asked how Harry was then supposed to find it, Nagluk only said. "Most families have their own methods for these situations, I'm sure yours will have one too."

Eventually the meeting came to an end. Nagluk assured Harry that he would now receive periodical updates on the estate and that Harry could always write or make an appointment should he have questions or instructions. He then handed Harry the key to the Potter vault and they parted ways. Harry asked the goblin escorting him back to the main hall if he could go on to his vault, or if he was required to get back in line and ask one of the tellers. The goblin responded curtly but did agree to take him to his vault. As the goblin steered the cart through the many tunnels, Harry was pondering how the main vault must have been way further underground than his trust vault. He didn't think he'd ever been this far into the tunnels. The sound of splashing drew his attention to the waterfall straight ahead on the track. Before he could ask, the goblin escorting him warned him it was the fall of truth. Had he come here disguised or with the intent of theft, the results would be _unpleasant _for him. Before Harry could respond they'd already rushed through it. Harry wasn't sure if he had imagined it, but he was sure the goblin had looked disappointed when nothing happened.

Eventually they did reach the Potter vault. As Harry used his new key to open the vault, he couldn't help but gape at the sight of all the riches he saw. His trust vault had been filled with piles of gold, but this was practically a cavern! The entire place was filled with neatly stacked piles of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts and Harry couldn't even see the end of the room from where he was standing! He filled a bag with as much gold as he could carry and was about to leave when he spotted a table. It was about the only thing in the vault that wasn't money, yet now that Harry had spotted it he felt drawn to the small wooden box on the table more than all the riches that surrounded it. He opened the box and found an elegantly designed ring made from a silvery metal Harry couldn't identify, resembling a snake holding its own tail in its mouth, with two tiny emeralds as its eyes. It was so lifelike Harry could imagine it actually start to move. Harry wasn't sure why, but he was drawn to it. He startled and almost leapt back. His hand had been less than an inch away from the ring, itching to put it on. The only problem was that Harry hadn't remembered even lifting a finger towards it.

Even now, having shaken the initial compulsion off and remembering the debacle with Riddle's diary, he still felt drawn towards it. He tried to rationalise what was going on. The ring was obviously magical. It was calling to him, urging him to put it on. A quick look at the goblin showed that only Harry was under its effect. At least, that's what Harry thought judging by the funny look the goblin was giving him. It had probably seen him jump back from the table like an idiot. His head was screaming at him that putting on strange magical items was a bad idea, yet some part of him felt this was an exception. Something about this ring felt familiar. Harry was sure he hadn't ever seen it before, but the magic in it... He almost recognised it now that he thought about it. It felt like his own, yet different. An increasingly louder part of his brain was telling him this was his family's vault. Surely his own family would not leave dangerous cursed items around for him to find?

Before he even fully realised what happened, the ring was in his hand. He nearly dropped it and leapt back again when he heard it. The ring spoke! A soft whisper, barely an echo, but like the magic, the sound was oddly familiar. Though he was now holding the thing at arm's length, the magic seemed to realise it was scaring him off as much as it was tempting him. A soft whisper rang in his head now as the compulsion lessened. "It's okay." It whispered. "It's okay my son. Put it on." And suddenly it clicked for Harry. It sounded familiar, because he had heard it before. He heard it every time he came near a dementor. "Dad?" Harry whispered. The magic from the ring seemed to be pleased at this realisation. "It's okay my son. Put it on" the soft whisper continued. "It will lead you home." Then it fell quiet, though the magical aura remained. Harry was quite sure he'd lost his mind, but slowly, he put the ring on.

The result was instantaneous. The magic surrounding the ring surged through him. At first Harry had thought the magic felt familiar because it, like the voice, had been his dad's. Now, he recognised dozens of separate magical signatures coming together to create the whole. All of the signatures felt oddly familiar. The magic connected to his own, taking some and adding it to the host of other signatures within the ring, while having some of every signature adding to his own magic. Suddenly he knew these signatures were familiar, because every single one of them belonged to his ancestors. One signature for every Potter that had worn it ever since the rings creation centuries before. Harry smiled, surrounded as he was by the magic of his father, grandfather, and all the other Potters that had worn the ring before him. The surging magic calmed, and the aura disappeared back into the ring, having done its job. Something clicked in Harry's mind and his smile grew. Nagluk had been right, his family did leave a way for him to find Potter Manor.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry had been walking for about fifteen minutes now he reckoned, he was close. He'd taken the Knight bus towards the outskirts of a quaint looking muggle village near York, promptly faced away from it, and started hiking into the nearby woods. Although Harry had never been there before, his feet seemed to know where to take him as he played with the now invisible ring on his finger. The ring had imparted some knowledge in his mind. Unfortunately it wasn't anything over the top and cool, like giving him all the amassed knowledge of his predecessors. It did however, impart on him the knowledge of the ring, and how to make it unseen to the rest of the world should he wish it. It also told him where Potter Manor was and gave him access to the wards. Harry was unsure how there could even _be_ wards if the entire thing had been burned down. Surely enemy forces would first have to break the wards before being able to do so? Nonetheless they existed, so it was probably a good thing the ring gave him some insight into how they functioned and how to bring visitors should he want to bring them.

Harry stopped, sure he was at the edge of the wards, though he couldn't see a thing other than trees. Taking a careful step over the invisible ward line, Harry felt a sudden rush of warmth as the wards recognised him as a Potter, and welcomed him in. Suddenly Harry was standing on a cobbled path leading up to his ancestral home. Or better said, what was left of it. Nagluk and Dumbledore had both been sure the manor had been completely burned down to the ground, yet there were clearly ruins left. Charred, yes, and completely uninhabitable, sure. But with the wards intact surely the place was salvageable? It'd cost him a pretty penny to rebuild the place, but Harry was sure it could be done.

Harry was quite sure there'd be nothing of value left, the place was clearly a ruinous mess, yet the family magic in the ring was acting up again. It was urging him to explore a bit, sure that there was something valuable in this place. Carefully, Harry explored through the ruins. The few walls left felt like they could be coming down any moment, and yet Harry felt a sense of familiarity. Quite sure he recognised a basic outline among the rubble. Although Harry wanted to keep exploring the ruins of the manor, he was about ready to give up. Dinner time had come and gone, and he was growing hungry. The magic in the ring was still persistent though. Just as Harry was about to turn away, he spotted something. Was that a trap door among the rubble?

The ring urged him on, and Harry was sure this is where it had tried to lead him. Shifting some of the rubble out of the way, Harry opened the trapdoor to find a winding, stone staircase down. With a softly whispered _Lumos_ Harry lit his wand. He cautiously looked around for any incoming owls from the ministry to tell him off for using magic. When it was eventually clear none would be coming, Harry started walking down the staircase. The stairs went on for what felt like ages, and the walls that looked smooth and polished at first were turning rougher, as if someone had crudely carved the staircase out of the rocky ground. Harry stumbled as he finally hit the bottom and seemed to emerge into some sort of small cavern. Torches that had hung dormant on the walls for who knew how long ignited, and the cavern was bathed in an orange glow. Harry could only see only one thing right in the centre of the cavern.

Right in the middle of the cavern was a roughly carved stone platform upon which lay what appeared to be a hammer. It was made from a metal Harry had never seen before, similar to the ring, and was inscribed with several runes Harry didn't recognise. The ring was practically singing with magic. Harry was sure this is what he'd been looking for, although he didn't know exactly why. Curious about what was clearly some ancient weapon of war, Harry touched the handle. He heard an ancient voice whisper words in a language he didn't know and then everything went black.

* * *

Harry blinked. What had he been doing again? Oh, right! He'd been examining the book, the only thing he'd found in the cavern underneath his family manor. Or what was left of said manor anyway.

He turned his attention back to the raised stone dais, upon which was a thick, leather bound book. Harry was sure this is what he'd been looking for, although he didn't know exactly what this book was yet. Upon closer inspection he found the book's front was inscribed with what he now knew was the potter family crest. A relatively simple showing of a wand crossed with what looked to be a hammer. The book itself looked relatively new, but at the same time it had a truly ancient feel to it.

Carefully he opened the book. Harry briefly felt disappointed when the first page he saw seemed to be written in a runic language he couldn't understand. Before he could close the book however, the letters on the page rearranged themselves before his very eyes and turned into perfectly understandable English.

Harry started reading the foreword, a helpful explanation of what the book was. As Harry read on he learned it was the Potter grimoire. A collection of the family history, and all the different kinds of magic the family had discovered over the course of its long history. Not the everyday spells one learned at Hogwarts. But advanced magic the Potters had encountered or invented over the years that they had kept secret. Deemed either family magic, or some things simply too dangerous to share with the world. It explained that only those of Potter blood and magic could read the book, all others would only see gibberish, or blank pages. It was protected by a myriad of spells. It could be shrunk and restored at will, or even be made unseen, similar to the family ring. It also had an index that changed, based on what the reader was searching for at a particular time. Something an ancestor of his had added to the book to keep it somewhat organised. One could only have so many pages in a relatively unorganised book spelled to be never ending before it became a nightmare to slug through.

The index was so in tune with the Potter reading it in fact, that it only showed what it believed the reader might be capable of using, or in the case of dark magic, capable of opposing. Apparently the chapters the book deemed one 'not ready for' were still readable in order to be studied, but wouldn't show up in the personalised index.

Idly Harry turned the page and wondered what the index would tell him. The first chapters in his personal index consisted of a description of the manor above him, followed by chapters based on his family history. For some hours Harry read. Learning that the reason there were wards and ruins left of the manor, even after they'd both been all but destroyed, was because the Potter family had lived there since they arrived in Britain with the Anglo-Saxons. Over the centuries, the Potters had spelled and protected the land in a myriad of ways. The most ingenious of which was that even should the wards fail, and all within the grounds be laid to waste, so long as there was Potter magic lingering on the grounds, it would all rebuild itself and make itself unplottable once more. Since the Potters had lived there for centuries, there luckily was no shortage of their magic hanging around. It was a final security measure that had been used only once in Potter history. Twice now, Harry corrected to himself quietly. He learned that the rebuilding would start with the wards and other protections on the land, before rebuilding the manor itself, along with whatever had been in there. It unfortunately didn't go on to explain how long the rebuilding would take, but Harry supposed you couldn't have everything. He'd just have to come back periodically to check on it, perhaps the presence of a living Potter would even speed up the process.

Harry tore himself away from the book for a second to look at his watch, before he startled himself. He'd been down here for hours! Deciding to take the book with him, he climbed back up the staircase, to emerge from the trapdoor into darkness. Night had all but fallen by now. Hiking back down through the forest, and reaching the village outskirts, Harry hailed the Knight bus once more. Destination, Surrey. The Dursleys were sure in for a shock, Harry grinned to himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry was having the best summer of his life. He had received a few letters from his godfather that, although they never mentioned a location, gave Harry the impression that Sirius was somewhere tropical while finally recovering from his stay in Azkaban. Well, as far as one could recover from such a horrid place. His friends had written too and there was even talk of visiting the quidditch world cup near the end of summer. But probably best of all was that life in number 4 Privet drive didn't suck for once. He still remembered how utterly mad Vernon had been when he had come home in the middle of the night last week. The man had turned all sorts of colours and had nearly tried to throw him in the cupboard. Something he hadn't tried in years now. Perhaps it was a tad sadistic, but Harry had truly enjoyed watching all the colour drain from his uncle's face as he calmly drew his wand, explained that he was now legally allowed to use magic outside of school, and then used a knockback jinx on Vernon in order to prove it.

He'd all but ordered his family into the living room and told everyone there were going to be some changes in the house. Harry would stay out of the Dursleys way, if they stayed out of his. He'd keep to himself and stick to his room when he wasn't out, except for using the bathroom or preparing his own food. He would not be doing any chores and the Dursleys had better not even try to touch his stuff. For good measure he added that he'd bewitched his things anyway. He hadn't of course, but Harry felt the Dursleys didn't need to know that.

He'd also let Hedwig free and if he found out they'd bothered her, Harry would be having _words_ with them. Harry smiled as he remembered his relatives' ashen faces as he'd pulled a serious face and waved his wand threateningly in their general direction. He'd thought it would probably look more silly than scary, but it had worked. The Dursleys hadn't said a word to him since, except for Petunia sometimes timidly asking what time he'd be using the kitchen.

Harry had spent the past week replacing his wardrobe, it seemed he'd hit a growth spurt recently. Even his eyes had improved a little, requiring him to get new spectacles. He hadn't bought anything too fancy, but at least he'd gotten rid of all of Dudley's old castoffs. Most of his time had been spent studying the grimoire, he had spent his days either in his room or in the local park reading up on his family's history and had nearly gotten through most of it. Well the summarised version at least. His family apparently predated the concept of England as a sovereign kingdom, so it was a lot of history to get through if not summarised.

To prevent himself from going stir crazy from all the studying he'd started running and working out. He also bought himself a fancy laptop. Not because he really needed one, it wouldn't even work at Hogwarts after all, but he figured he could learn how to play a game or two over the summer, just to relax. Harry honestly thought seeing his cousins jealous looks when he'd brought the thing home had been worth it. He hadn't expected how much he'd actually like the thing though. Truly, unsupervised use of the internet had been an eye opener. He'd been looking up everything from advances in muggle technology he'd missed over the last few years, to looking up things that advanced his knowledge of _biology._

He had heard some talk about sex of course. It was nearly impossible to avoid all mention of it in a castle filled with teens. Especially when one slept in the boys' dormitory. To have all sorts of 'websites' on the subject open to him now though, showed him that he wasn't any better than his classmates on the subject. There was simply something about sex. As Harry had been discovering, there was a good chance he was even worse than his classmates. Not that he'd suddenly turned into some sex-obsessed deviant, but he did find out that he had certain... preferences, or kinks as the internet called it, that he had never heard any of his fellow students talking about. He'd gotten on a website dedicated to something called bdsm and its various subcategories by mistake and for some inexplicable reason he'd been hooked immediately.

His days were spent reading his family history and following a rudimentary workout schedule, and now his evenings were spent looking up bdsm and what it all entailed. At first, Harry had been feeling at odds with himself. Denying he was aroused by what he'd seen on those sites was simply not going to work. His dreams were enough proof of that as Harry had found out to his embarrassment. Yet at the same time he had the odd feeling that being turned on by such things was wrong. What kind of person would be into such a thing? Who would _get off _on tying other people up, or by treating them in some degrading matter or on anything related to bdsm really.

Eventually though, he'd found several online forums and message boards explaining various common questions and found out there where tons of people that had wondered the same thing. It wasn't some evil thing. According to several members of said forums, it wasn't even all that rare. People rarely came out for it in the open, but apparently there were entire underground scenes in every major city for people that enjoyed bdsm in its various forms. He'd been quite relieved after that if still unsure about the morality. He'd briefly wondered if it had something to do with Voldemort's soul piece getting sucked out of him. Even now it still niggled at his mind.

He was starting to suspect it had changed him in some ways at least. It hadn't been obvious even to himself at first, but over the few weeks since the event he'd been feeling different. He was sure he was still himself, but his mind somehow felt clearer. As if his mind had existed in a slight fog all his life and it had now been dissipating. He wasn't suddenly a genius, or smarter at all really, but he certainly concentrated on things more easily. This had a subtle but beneficial effect on his magic, as Harry had found during some practice sessions. His magic wasn't any stronger, but with an increase in his focus came better results in his spellcasting. Harry had wondered, and worried, if it had also affected his personality in some ways.

The whole thing with the bdsm was one thing, he had no idea if that was a change or something he'd always had but didn't know about. But looking back he wasn't sure he would have enjoyed the whole debacle with the Dursleys normally. He'd still have done it of course. But if he would have enjoyed it? For the hundredth time since his return to the Dursleys, he shook himself out of that particular train of thought. Vernon had threatened him, and he'd simply used the means available to defend himself, without any bloodshed to boot. Of course he enjoyed that the man had no power over him anymore.

He'd tackle any remaining issues from the event if and when they'd pop up. So far there hadn't been any negative effects he could really pinpoint, and Dumbledore had guaranteed he was free of Voldemort's influence anyway. Studiously ignoring that Dumbledore asked to be informed of _any_ change Harry thought might result from the dementor exposure, he turned his attention back to his laptop, Harry decided he'd enjoy one of his new favourite pastimes a bit before calling it a night. When Harry finally turned out the light an hour or so later, he slept like a baby. Happily dreaming away about a mixture of his female fellow students and a variety of fantasy women in various compromising situations, any and all qualms about his kinks forgotten.

* * *

Harry sat at his desk, reading Dumbledore's reply that he would personally come to examine Harry the day after the quidditch world cup with a sense of both relief and dread. He'd decided to stop kidding himself and write Dumbledore about all the changes he'd started to notice over the past few weeks. They'd all started of as very small. But eventually they'd kept growing, accelerating, and Harry could ignore it no longer.

Yes, he'd hit a growth spurt. It made sense that he outgrew his clothing, he was going through puberty after all and he'd been working out. But going from a scrawny kid that looked about two years younger than he actually was to being average height and fairly athletic for a fourteen year old in the span of three weeks? Nobody grew that fast, and no workout in the world should yield those results in less than a month. Since coming to Private drive he'd replaced his entire wardrobe twice. He'd ended up going to Diagon Alley and having his clothes spelled to grow in size with him just yesterday, simply to stop the hassle.

His eyes were another matter. They were getting better, which could happen during puberty, but again, not to the degree that they were. They still sucked, but they had been improving steadily and at the rate it was going, he probably wouldn't need spectacles anymore by the time Christmas came around. Like his wardrobe, they'd already been replaced twice within three weeks until he'd finally found an optometrist in Diagon alley that allowed for a self updating prescription on his glasses. It had been expensive and had limits, but it beat having to replace them every few weeks.

His mind was another matter. He still hadn't become more intelligent and his level of focus seemed to have stabilised. What bothered Harry was different. His memory seemed to be improving. He recalled old information with renewed ease, down to details he hadn't even known he remembered. In fact, now that he thought about it, he was fairly confident he hadn't forgotten a single moment since he woke up in the hospital wing at the end of the previous school year.

The most worrying thing though, was that he seemed to do certain things as if he had years of experience in them, even though he couldn't remember doing anything similar before. Nothing sinister that made him think it was Voldemort's influence seeping through. More like everyday things. It's not that he already knew how to do them, but once he started on it he did them with a sense of ease and confidence that he usually only gained from hours of practice. Aside from that he found himself with a few strange mannerisms. Now that he thought about it, what self respecting thirteen year old started threats with "I would have words with you."?

His magic, though the most subtle change, was perhaps the one that scared him the most. At first, his control had actually improved. Increased focus would do that. Now though, his magic was seemingly gaining in power, and Harry found it more difficult to control. The magic itself came more easily and more powerful than before, but restraining it enough to do what he wanted it too was becoming more difficult. As a first year, he'd had to learn how to make a feather float. It had been a struggle to even get the thing to move. Now, he was learning to stop it from launching itself at the ceiling at the barest whisper of a spell. It was like having lightning coursing through him and trying to only let out the few sparks he needed to not overload the spell.

Harry shook his head and tore himself away from the letter. Nothing he could do about it until Dumbledore came to see him. It was time for his morning run anyway. Maybe he'd see that cute girl again? He'd seen her on his morning runs a few times now, although they hadn't spoken. Who knows, maybe this time he'd actually pluck up the courage to introduce himself? Grinning at his own silliness, he grabbed his sneakers and prepared to go out.


End file.
